


Ranch

by WeMadeMonsters



Category: American (US) Actor RPF
Genre: Dogs, F/M, Horses, highly self indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeMadeMonsters/pseuds/WeMadeMonsters
Summary: I'm writing again! It’s a fic where Jon’s a ranch hand and you are new to ranching. Warning: highly self indulgent. This is chapter one of (???).
Relationships: Jon Bernthal/Original Character(s), Jon Bernthal/You
Kudos: 2





	Ranch

Inheriting your great-aunt’s ranch came as something of a surprise. You remembered spending some summers out with her when you were a kid, but other than the occasional card the two of you hadn’t spoken in years. No bad blood, you were just a certified city-slicker and Aunt Rachel did just fine out there on her own. Honestly, in a way, the fact that she died was even more of a shock than the inheritance. But, it was what it was, and the letter that came some few weeks after the funeral made her final wishes clear. The ranch was yours.

It was a good time for it, at least. Your last job in the city had fallen through and so had your previous boyfriend. Having a place to stay away from your nosy landlord would be a blessing, at least. You didn’t have much to pack up, which was good because it wasn’t like your beat-up little Honda would hold much anyway. And so, on a sunny Saturday, you headed out of the city and in the direction of the ranch. The fire address was in your phone’s GPS, and it seemed reliable enough. Plus, a few landmarks started to come back to you as you grew closer to your destination.

You’d never really driven on gravel before, and so you found yourself slowing down, being cautious. It was alright, there was no one else on the road. So you took your time, humming along to the radio and tapping your fingers against the steering wheel as you made your way. Finally, your phone told you to turn right off the road, and sure enough the Doe Ranch sign caught your eye. The driveway was long, but mostly straight, lined with old poplar trees that seemed to stretch up to the sky. The white house was soon in sight, standing almost exactly as you remembered it. Pulling up in front of the wrap around porch and turning off your car, the silence of the countryside almost immediately filled your ears.

Slipping your purse onto your shoulder, you got out of your car, stretching out as you took in the sight of the well-weathered building. You could hear a few birds, but god, it was nothing like the city. Your mind on how hard it was going to be to fall asleep out here meant you were totally unprepared for the shout that came shortly from behind you.

“Hey!” You let out an undignified yelp in response, swivelling around in the mud and gravel of the driveway towards the source of the sound, your hands clamping onto the door of your car.

“Sorry.” But he doesn’t sound very sorry, and that’s your first impression. He’s holding back laughter; you can see it in the crinkling around his brown eyes. The man is tall, broad, and wearing a creamy-white cowboy hat. He has a nose that looks like it’s seen a few good fights, and his moustache is dancing on his face as he tries to keep a straight face. “Didn’t mean t’ startle you. I just wanted to let you know you’re on private property, Miss…?”

“It’s fine.” It’s not, but what else are you going to say? “It’s uh, it’s my property. Or, it is now anyway. I’m Jane. Jane Doe.”

“Well I’ll be damned. I didn’t know a Doe could drive that slow.” He’s biting his bottom lip now, and you can feel the colour creeping up your cheeks. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, darlin’. I’m Jon Bernthal, Rachel Doe hired me to help take care of the place a few years back.” He’s holding out his hand, and you take it. He’s rough and warm, which is moderately distracting.

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I got that.” He grins, tipping his hat back a little as you let go of his hand. He’s taking you in, you can tell. “Not that I don’t believe you are who you say you are…”

“What? Oh. Yeah. Of course.” You pick up his meaning right away, and go fumbling for your wallet, to quickly pass him your driver’s licence. He examines it for a moment, grunts, and hands it back to you.

“Sorry for askin’. A few people were sniffin’ around before Rachel died, and I wanted to make sure, I guess.”

You nod, biting your bottom lip. You have suddenly become aware that the black shirt he’s wearing isn’t buttoned up all the way, and your eyes keep drifting to the patch of tanned skin on display.

“Can I help you with…” He tilts his chin towards your car, “Some of that?”

“Yeah, thanks. That would be great.” Maybe he didn’t notice you looking.

The two of you manage to get your things inside after a few trips, and you leave them piled up in the living room, for the time being. There’s an envelope with your name on it sitting on the coffee table, and you pick it up, sliding the back open with your pinky finger. The writing is easily recognizable as your Aunt’s, and you skim through the letter quickly.

In it, she explains about Jon the ranch hand, and how he’s paid up for the next few months. ‘But I’ll be surprised if you don’t keep him,’ she wrote, ‘no one handles the horses better.’ You look up and catch Jon looking at you. He grins again, and you feel your cheeks colouring once more.

“It’s from Aunt Rachel. Apparently, you’re good with the horses.” He snorts a little, and nods, and you fold the letter up and stuff it into the back pocket of your jeans. You’ll read the rest later.

“You wanna see them?” His hands are on his hips, and your mind is more on his biceps than his words.

“Who?”

“The horses, darlin’.” He definitely probably thinks you’re simple. Or he’s noticed the fact that you can’t keep your eyes off him. “You got some boots?”

You look down at your sneakers, already caked with mud from the driveway. “Uh, no. This’ll be fine.”

He raises one eyebrow but says nothing. Instead, Jon turns and heads out the door, beckoning you to follow with his hand. You find yourself hurrying to meet his long strides. “You scared of dogs?”

“No?”

“Good. I keep a couple of dogs. They’re harmless, but I didn’t want ‘em surprisin’ you.”

Turning the corner of the barn, you are met by two pit bulls, one grey and the other a slightly smaller brindle. “This is Pork,” he taps the wriggling grey dog who Sure enough, you are greeted by two pit bulls as you round the corner of the barn, one grey and one slightly smaller brindle. They both bark out a greeting, and charge Jon, who greets them with open arms. He taps the grey, “this is Pork.” Pork seems to be trying to turn himself into a donut around Jon’s arm, wriggling and whining. “And that’s, hey! Lady! Git down!”

The brindle is on her hind legs, dancing and whining softly in front of you.

“It’s okay. Hi Lady.” You reach out to stroke her soft ears, and she rewards you by slobbering over your hand.

“It’s not.” He grunts, “They need to learn some manners.” Pork is splayed out on his back, tongue lolling out of his mouth while Jon scratches his belly almost absentmindedly. You can’t be sure, but you get the feeling that Jon’s fighting a losing battle there. Still, the dogs are nice enough, and they trot after you as the two of you make your way into the barn, which is startlingly silent.

“It’s a nice day so they’re all out in the field. It’s just through here,” Jon leads you between the stalls, and you take in the smell of horses and hay. It’s nicer than you remembered, though a little dim. Exiting the barn on the other side, you are greeted by the sight of five brown horses in the large fenced in field that stretches out in front of you.

“There they are.” There’s a slight reverence in Jon’s voice, and you get the sense that he too is seeing something beautiful as a few of them raise their heads to look at the two of you. “Four ladies, and that big guy with the white socks? He’s a gelding, or I wouldn’t let him in there with them.”

“Gelding?”

“He’s, uh. Lost his balls, darlin’.”

“Oh.” Hopefully, there’s a point in the future where you’ll stop embarrassing yourself in front of Jon. Not that he seems to mind, he’s stopped trying to hide his smile and he’s outright grinning at you again. The two of you lean against the fence, and he tells you the name of each horse, pointing them out with his other hand on your upper back, as if to direct your attention.

You fall into silence, the reality of the situation pressing onto your mind for the first time. There are people and animals here who rely on you. The ranch has largely made its money by renting out most of the vast land area to neighbours, but there’s still plenty to do and manage on the day to day. You have no idea what you’re doing.

Luckily, Jon is there. Or he will be for the next few months, according to Rachel’s letter.

After a moment, you realize he’s still talking with his hand on your back, and you turn your head to face him.

“- Stay in the barn, so you won’t see all too much of me,”

“Wait, you live in the barn?”

“There’s a little heated apartment up in the loft, darlin’. I’m not livin’ in the hay.” He grins.

Nodding, you try to will yourself to not turn red. “I didn’t realize, a lot has changed since I’ve last been here.”

He nods too, dropping his hand from your upper back down to his side. “Rachel made a lot of changes in the last few years; she loved this place. Wanted it to go on long after she did.” The way he’s looking at you is rather pointed, and you shrug a little and look back out over the horses.

“Well… I don’t… I’m going to try, you know? But I can’t… I’ve never…” You swallow down your fear, and shrug again. “I promise I didn’t come out here just to sell the place off.”

He nods again, and gestures back towards the barn. “I’ll show you the rest of the property. Get you up to speed?”

“Sure.” There is a good deal of gratitude in your tone, and you begin to follow Jon back towards the barn when you both feel and hear a horrible squelching sound,  
and lifting your foot means that your sneaker is pulled off of your foot, stuck squarely in the middle of a mud puddle you hadn’t noticed. A mixture of horror and shock crosses your face, and an undignified sound of surprise escapes you, causing the ranch hand to turn and look at you standing like a flamingo.

He raises a hand to his mouth, fingers pressed over his moustache as he clearly tries to hold back. “Aw, no darlin’. I did ask you if you had boots…”

“I…” But before you can finish, he’s making his way to you, lips still trembling with stifled laughter.

“Hold on, now.” He grunts, and with that, he’s scooping you up bridal style, holding you up and off of the mud with relative ease.

Choosing not to address the fact that you are curled up in his strong and clearly capable arms, you make some noise about your now trapped shoe instead, trying to ignore the fact that he is very warm, at this range.

“I’ll come back for your shoe, Jane. I promise.”

Having no other protests, you simply allow the man to carry you back towards the house, through the barn, with his dogs barking and now trotting along. It is wholly undignified, but you get the feeling that you’re going to be remembering what it’s like to be carried by Jon Bernthal for some time. He sets you carefully down on the wrap around porch, and you thank him weakly.

“Not a problem.” You’re not sure if you see some colour in his tanned cheeks too, or if you’re just hoping that the two of you are sharing the moment. “I’ll be back in a minute with your shoe.”

And as promised, he trots off back towards the barn, leaving you with Pork and Lady sniffing at your sock covered foot.


End file.
